The Last Prussian
by ARC N7
Summary: WW2 has come to an end. Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt is preparing his retirement, when a scientific experiment on an alien-device goes horribly wrong. Torn out of his world, he finds himself in a strange new galaxy. Thankfully, there is a Commander who could use his expertise.
1. Chapter 1

Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt looked out of the window of his car and admired the industrial skyline of Essen in the distance, while his driver drove up to the security checkpoint of the facility he was about to inspect. It was impressive how well Germany had recovered from the war and the allied bombings. The years 1942 and 1943 had been hell for the German industry. Bombings non-stop. The only thing that saved the Wehrmacht from a logistical collapse was the use of confiscated Italian and Eastern European factories. But after the disasterous Invasion in France, the British agreed to a ceasefire, when most of their remaining troops were dead.

Things slowly started to calm down in Europe. The Soviets appearently respected the 1942 ceasefire-agreement so far without incidents. Rundstedt hoped with Mexico under almost full occupation by German troops, the USA and would be forced to accept the terms demanded by the OKW. Britain's military power was essentially reduced to colonial auxillery and France was in the process of reelecting their Government after the retreat of occupation forces. He hoped with the upcoming conference in Versailles, the war could finally be ended. It had lasted far too long, even after Operation Valkyrie.

What still caused Rundstedt headaches was the situation in the Soviet Union. While a ceasefire was in effect and both sides had declared themselves ready to make peace, the situation was a disaster. The Red Army had undergone a huge reform-program and if military analysts were to be believed, it could launch a devestating counter-offensive, if they choose to break the armistice.

The matter was made worse by the continued "soft-occupation" of captured Soviet Territory. Attempts of joint investigations into German warcrimes continued to both help build a resemblence of trust and heat up the nationalist anger at the invaders.

Rundstedt hated being involved in politics. He was grateful, that with Stalin he could talk straight up and honest, but making deals with the western Allies was stressful.

The car halted and a soldier of the Luftwaffe Ground Forces approached the car to inspect them. He looked inside, saw Rundstedt glaring at him and immediately signaled them to go ahead. As soon as noone looked, Gerd allowed himself a little grin. Being able to identify as an authority figure just by staring down some poor grunt was a little funny. He liked to call it the 'Köpenig Effect'.

Luftwaffe Ground Troopers were one of the many improvisations on the now quiet Eastern Front. Air Force Personnel given Rifles and told to hold the line. After a while, they were reformed into something useful. They were excellent perimeter security guards and they could maintain the flak-grids in the sectors they were stationed in.

The Kübelwagen parked outside and he opened the door. It was afternoon and the sun was shining brightly. Rundstedt really wanted that bullshit project done with, so he could relax a bit in a local Beergarden. One of the few things he liked about the Bavarian culture in Germany. Their beer was superb.

It was a nice day and he wanted to relax after a stressful week, but Model was too busy in the Middle East, fighting some annoying islamist rebels for the UAR. He couldn't do the inspection, so Gerd had to do it.

It had actually been Walter who started the "Stargate" project. One of his Brandenburger Units had cleared out a US funded guerilla camp in an undiscovered egyptian ruin. President Nasser of the United Arab Republic had allowed Germany to research the strange artifact on the condition they inform the UAR if something interesting is found out. Model and Rommel had sort of befriended the new Pan-Arab Government. Liberating them from British Oppression and Model repelling General Patton's offensive in Algeria 1943 had certainly helped.

Rundstedt entered the research bunker and casually walked through the narrow corridor that led to the real entrance. It was a really near tactic to have only one real entrance guarded by an MG42. British Spies had run cicles around the Abwehr in the early days of the war, but after a while Canaris found out the most effective way of dealing with spies was to do all reasearch underground with as few entrances as possible. Surprisingly effective.

No one asked Rundstedt for identification though. Since the Wehrmacht had couped the NSDAP he was sort of a public figure and the soldiers knew that he was the boss. He didn't actually enjoy the fame, though. It annoyed him to be recognized as a high ranking officer. With the uniform of a colonel, he usually had a certain anonymity. Now it was almost impossible to go anywhere without soldiers saluting or standing at attention.

He entered the elevator and pushed the button for the descent into the bunker.

The crude cage-construction unnerved him. He preferred good old stairs to one of these any day. At least the american elevators weren't so shaky.

He thought about the project for a moment. Was it really worth so much afford? Gerd tried to understand the perspective of the project oversight, but it was hard.

The ancient egyptian artifact, that the scientists had labeled as "Stargate" was a huge metal ring. It was full of rare-earth metal superconductors and there were gravitational anomalies around it. Appearently, the scientists guessed that the thing was some kind of 'gate' to the stars, according to some ancient text they'd found in the ruin. They guessed, that it may be of extraterrestrial origin. Now, they planned to shoot a truckload of electricity through it. Eight nuclear reactors, to be precise.

Rundstedt thought it was a ridiculous waste of rescources and intended to assign those to military R&D projects as soon as possible. Dönitz and Reader were putting a lot of pressure on him to finally give the Navy something to work with. The sea blockade of the USA was essentially being carried out by captured U-Boats and the actual ships were captured Italian, French and British ships. Even some bought from Japan. The war was an overwhelming victory for Germany, but it had to come to an end. Europe was in ruins, the Soviet Union was possibly out for revenge and Germany overstretching. The USA had to give up their ridiculous demands of pre-war status quo and partition of occupied Soviet Territory. The Great Powers of the World had to talk on the adults table about a new order.

The elevator arrived deep underground and Gerd stepped out, to be greeted by an officer in a dark grey dress-uniform with some red and yellow higlights. The new uniform of the Reichsgarde. The temporary replacement of the SS.

Rundstedt recognized the man.

"Oberst Peiper", the General greeted and saluted with his Marshals-Baton.

Joachim Peiper saluted back and greeted: "Generalfeldmarschall, the scientists have everything prepared. We are currently doing the last security checks. We will start on your command. Please follow me."

Peiper walked ahead and Gerd followed.

"What security measures are put in place? And please drop the formalities, Colonel. It just makes me feel old"

"Of, course. If you mean technological security? None. To put it informally, we poke the thing with energy and see what happens.", Peiper explained and laughed a bit.

The way to the main hall where the experiment would commence was short and the two entered after the guards quickly checked their identities.

Both got through and Rundstedt stopped a bit, when he saw the two monstrosities in the room. That huge ornate metal ring and the abomination of a tank that was standing in front of it. A Maus.

Rundstedt at stared at it for a moment and asked, "Peiper, I was told that this thing was possibly a transportation device, right?"

"Yes..."

"And our scientist think that they might find Martians on the other side?"

"Sort of..."

"You want to drive through with a giant tank?", he asked the obvious, but in a completely neutral tone. He didn't judge, it was just a bit unconventional for him. It was sort of genius, though.

"Yes. General Becker can probably explain it better, than me.", Peiper explained and then shouted: "Alfred, get over here!"

And old man who was climbing the tank, ceased his work on the monstrosity and jogged over to the two officers.

"This is General Becker. Boss of Construction-Kommando Becker.", the young Colonel introduced the old Engineer.

"Pleased to meet you, Field Marschal."

The old men shook hands.

"I know your work, Becker. On behalf of the men at the front I want to relay a lot of thanks to you. The conversions of your design-bureau were immensely sucessful."

Becker smiled flattered.

"Thanks, Sir. We were responsible for intigrating a Hybrid of the Fritz-X and the Goliath guiding system into that tank and it was a lot of work. If that Stargate thing actually turns out to work, we intent to remote control Daisy. She drives through and we can see what happens on the other side through a camera that sends the images through that cable in the back, into the TV up in the control-room. We use her because we want the most durable drone possible. These gravity-anomalies around the ring are obviously a part of how it functions and we expect a lot of strain on anything that goes through."

"And if something hostiles comes towards us, we blast it to pieces.", Peiper added enthusiastically. "Alfred made some major upgrades to the other systems of the tank too."

The door of the armored control-room openend and an overweight man in a lab-coat carefully walked down the stairs.

Rundstedt knew it was one of those guys. NSDAP loyal scientists that escaped the anti-nazi purges because they were too useful. The problem was, that all the smart intellectuals fled the country after Hitler's takeover. After the coup, the OKW had to work with the remaining nazi-scientists, until they could restore the shattered and disillusioned german intelligencia. Gerd hoped the inttelectuals of Weimar's times would return to their home, after America gives up it's delusional dreams of a status quo in their favor. They couldn't win the war anymore, but Truman didn't want to capitulate. Until then, even scientific cooperations with the Soviet Union were a considered option, despite the terrible situation in the region.

"Good morning, Herr General. I am Doctor Fichtel, scientific chief of Project Stargate. We are ready to start with the experiment.", the scientist greeted cheerfully, but with a thick Bavarian accent that Gerd could barely understand. "If you ready, we are going to observe from the control-room."

He wanted to follow, but stopped and looked around. The guards were all still around and behind their sandbag fortifications, loading their MG42's and StG46's.

"No. I will stay with the guards. Peiper, please hand me a rifle."

The Bavarian looked surprised, but just nodded and walked up into the control room, while Peiper threw him an StG aquired from a nearby rack. Gerd smiled warmly, at the look of admiration on the Oberst's face. It was conforting to know he still hadn't lost his connection to the common grunt.

Peiper elegantly climbed into the turret of the Maus with Becker. Rundstedt didn't take cover. Instead he stood besides the tank with his rifle in hand.

"We start now.", the Scientist announced over the loadspeakers and the energy was silently activated.

A few green blicking lights activated on the side of the ring and nothing else happened. It was interesting, but not the expected result.

It took him a few seconds to realize, that he was floating a few centimetres above the ground. The Guards were silently trying to deal with the lack of gravity, but remained disciplined. The tank started to float too, while a blue aura started to form in the ring. It looked bizarre. All manner of things were floating around in the air and started getting pulled towards the ring. Everything, pencils and crates, that got sucked into the blue glow disappeared with a flash.

Rundstedt saw the scientists panicking in their safe room, trying to something productive. Gerd just held onto the tank. Then he felt a pull. The vehicle was tugged into the blue glow inside the ring.

"Shut the thing down!", Peiper screamed in panic, while clumsily trying to climb out of the turret.

Gerd tried to find some thing to hold onto, other than the tank. It was too late, when he felt the pull on the tank.

The old Marshal knew, that he could try to escape, but made his peace with the situation. It was futile.

But instinctively he held on tightly onto his rifle.

A blue flash struck the tank and the three Officers felt rush of speed. They were surrounded by a blue/black aura for a moment, then that the tank was pulled through a long blue glowing tunnel.

* * *

On the planet Cernay-3 in the Skyllian Verge, a team of Mercenaries was doing a usual perimeter patrol of their little outpost. It was afternoon and the usual routine tasks of daily life. Nothing special ever really happened. It was a small warehouse in the middle of nowhere. There was a beacon that indicated it's presence to everyone who passed the system, but that was the only feature in the landscape, exept for the blocky warehouse.

It was a depot for some criminal enterprise. The guards didn't ask any questions. They were professionals and just living a monotonous life of patrolling the perimeter, form guard detachments and look menacing in front of customers. These men and women were a little corporation called "The Green Guards". Cheap mercenaries for small enterprises.

The "civilian" criminals and the guards lived more or less segregated, but got along well enough. It was a peaceful little commune, that happened to sell drugs and weapons to shady people.

It all changed that afternoon.

Inside the warehouse, old computer programs sprang to life again. A warning message appeared on screen. The young human scoundrel on post noticed and quickly redirected his attention from his Playboy Magazine.

He readjusted his glasses and red the pop-up.

Sensor data.

He expanded the window with his fingers. The old scientific equipment had noticed a huge anomaly. And it wasn't another duststorm. There had been a massive spike of Eezo-Radiation and a little concussion. It was somewhere around a hill, two kilometres away. He didn't know if this was one of those cases where the loose protocoll demaded to report it, but he found it reasonable. He quickly hid his Magazine and stepped outside his control room.

On the floor, the guard for the computer-room sat on a camping chair, taking a very unprofessional nap. For a moment, the young smuggler hesitated to wake her. She was an Asari roughly around his age. He had taken quite a liking to her over the last months, but was still sort of shy. He didn't want to bother her if it was a triviality, but rationality won the short mental struggle.

"Jaina, I think we have a situation. Could you please come in?", he asked politely.

She awakened immediately and followed him in. He sat back down on his chair and she watched over his shoulder.

"What is it, Chris?", she asked.

"Our scientific sensor arrays just picked up a significant anomaly. An energy spike and a little concussion. But also Eezo-Radiation. It was centered two Kilometres away to the West. I thought..."

"I know. Good work. You go tell your boss, I wait for Commander Hansen's patrol to return to com-range.", she interrupted him and gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Chris quickly and silently left his office, but grinning.

Jaina checked through the channels and confirmed her boss wasn't back yet, but she knew the human women would want to investigate. She was the only thing that really kept her mercenaries from all becoming undisciplined and lax. It was a double-edged sword. Jaina respected Commander Hansen like a human version of an Asari Matriarch. She was an excellent teacher for everything about the lifestyle of a warrior (or soldier). But she also had a talent for severely limiting the amount of fun, that the mercs had while on this long assingnment.

Speaking of fun, she noticed a little magazine lying under Chris' desk.

She picked it up, inspected the cover and subtly stored it in her backpack.

The Asari decided to get outside of the building to maybe get a better com-connection. Sadly the Commander had decided to use some obsolete human-tech called 'radio' for short range communications, because no military (or police) actually searched for that kind of signal anymore.

It was smart, but the metallic walls always messed with it.

Giving up on it, she left the building.

* * *

The blue sphere around them disappeared and the tank crashed down on stone ground.

Gerd impacted the ground hard, besides the vehicle. It took him a moment to reorient. They were in a very large hall. It seemed like a science lab, judging from the amount of electrical devices scattered around, but it was abandoned. Sand and Dust covered everything and the stone architechture was decaying.

"Scheiße!", shouted Peiper when he regained balance and pointed at the mirror-gate behind them. "It's closed!"

Gerd dusted himself off, then looked back. That was a bad sign.

"Gentlemen, it appears we are stranded.", he stated dryly.

Peiper punshed the armor of the turret, angrily. General Becker opened the drivers hatch.

"Then we are dead.", the Engineer stated. "The communications-wire is cut. According to emergency protocol, we are officially dead now. The project continues, but there is no rescue afford planned."

Gerd tried to digest that concept. They were truly stranded. It was a terrible feeling. But not all hope was lost. He wanted to spent his retirement with his familiy, not stranded where ever they had been tranported. While the scientists that compiled all the reports he had read, did always try their best to empathise that they suspected the "Gate" to lead to another Planet, Rundstedt was never conviced that something as complex as space travel could be possible with something like a metal ring. That was now clearly in question, but he still hoped that he was still on Earth, somewhere.

"Then let's get to work. Becker, I know you are probably the best engineer in the entire Wehrmacht. The matter of getting back is probably a purely technical thing and finding out how these control panels work. Get to work. Peiper, get a weapon. You come with me. We explore the area and try to find out where we are.", he ordered and checked the magazine of his rifle.

Both subordinates took their orders quitly and nodded in approval. Becker threw Peiper an MP-40 out of the hatch.

"How much ammo do we have?", Becker asked, looking around.

Rundstedt did too and he noticed that a few crates had flown through behind them.

He approached one and jammed his honor-dagger between the wooden planks. It was a bit too hard for him to actually open it, though.

"Could you please help, young man?", he asked humorously in the Oberst's direction.

Peiper let out a quiet laugh, then easily pried the crate open and trew away the cover. He then moved on to open the next.

Gerd inspected the content of his crate and was pleased. "A few StG's, magazines and bullets. Yours?"

"Bajonets, scopes... A few experiment attachments that we wanted to test in the secondary labs. We shared that bunker with other projects and some were stored in that same storage area as the gate.", the Oberst explained, then frowned. "That reminds me..."

He didn't finish the sentence and opened another crate instead.

"What is it?"

Peiper grabbed in there and showed off what Gerd thought was a new kind of Bazooka. It looked like a fag made of small barrels, though.

"This is the Fliegerfaust. It fires nine 20mm rockets in salvos of three. We intended it for use against enemy CAS. Of course we don't know if it would actually work, but I know that it does against jeeps and mannequins."

Rundstadt eyed the weapon amused.

"If Raeder knew what kinds of experimental weapon development we in the Heer prioritised over his Navy, he'd probably defect to the Soviets.", he joked. Even after the Wehrmacht had taken over the country, the Navy had been underfunded as always. Nearly everything had gone to the Army or Air Force. The only thing that had kept the Kriegsmarine able to compete with the Allies in the late stage of the war had been guided bombs and torpedos.

Peiper proceeded to break a open two more crates, while Becker held the AA-Bazooka for him.

"These are the two new FG-45K and 45H.", the young Colonel said, and grabbed into the crate. He held two different, yet similiar versions in hand. "The short-barrel K-Version with the magazine in the stock, behind the grip, is the CQB-Variant. The recoil is even harder than usual, but it rips apart anything in short range. The H has a Drum-Magazine from the MG34. It's a rather conventional design, but it has quite a lot of experimental recoil-dampeners. It's a decent Assault Rifle. The other crate is full of ammo and mags."

Rundstedt just grabbed into the ammo-crate and got himself four magazines for his StG. He knew the immense recoil of the FG-Series and he was too old to handle it. The StG-46 (a technically improved version of the original 44) worked nicely for him. It had a good handling and low recoil. Gerd liked his old K98 far more, but he knew that the new Assault Rifle Generation was far superior than everything he grew up with.

"Peiper, get that Drum-Version. This place is rather wide. We explore the area a bit."

* * *

"What do you mean with 'Earthquake'?", Birgit Hansen groaned into the com-channel. "This area has no tectonic activity."

"I swear, the ground had been shaking for a moment at my current position. Could an approaching dust-storm have caused that?", came the answer from the mercenary.

"Redundant. We would have been warned, if one approaches. Patrol that spot for five minutes and see if something happens again, then proceed on your route. And do it like Pravus. If it isn't important, maintain radio-discipline.", she snapped back, then resumed her patrol around the dunes.

Birgit liked to do that alone. It was relaxing, after having to deal with the rookies.

'The Boss' liked to deploy her with the newest of recruits on calm jobs to drill them good before actually using them for any raids. Hansen always felt far older than 42, when she teached these kids. However, she was one of the only Mercenaries with legitimate military background. Ex-Alliance soldiers were usually joining either Eclipse or the Blue Suns, but the majority of mercs in the Galaxy were young adults looking for some kind of adventure.

Birgit had served in the Koloniale Hjemmeværnet, the Danish Home Guard on the outer colonies. She had only seen combat once on Elysium, but that did leave quite an impression. Her task in the Green Guards was to give the rookies a resemblence of training and discipline.

Her view of the sun slowly going down was interrupted by the rookie calling her again.

"Boss, there is someone in the dunes. Two men, but I can't make out details..."

That was enough to get her on alert.

"Pravus, get back into com-range and tell Jaina to guard it. Then prepare the AA-Turrets. They have to be scouts and that means they have a ship. Everyone else, regroup at Lucas' position.", she ordered and run where her HUD displayed the position of contact.

That was exactly what she always expected to happen. She knew that empty planets were perfect spots for hiding drugs, but the locations of the base and planet could always be obtained by treason or spying. That meant, they were either dealing with military, mercenaries or in the worst case: Mercenary Commandos. Some Crime-Lords really took competition on the market seriously and they tended to overkill on that.

Hopefully, they could take them out quickly.

* * *

"Definitely Mars.", commented Runstedt, looking over the odd colored dunes of the red-black desert.

It was quite a sight to behold. The Sand of the desert was colored reddish-orange, but was covered by uneven layers of black dust and ash.

"Well... Maybe Australia? Or Texas? This dust looks like from these big duststorms the poor Yanks had in the thirties.", Peiper, guessed while playing around with the fine particles of dust and sand, like a young boy on the beach.

Gerd looked up into the sky, trying to navigate, but the clusters of stars were different from what he learned at military academy. Then he noticed the last clue, that definitively proved he wasn't on Earth.

"Does Texas have two moons?"

Peiper looked up and flinched visibly. "We are stranded.", he acknoledged.

Gerd looked around and didn't see any other buildings. Appearently the bunker was everything in the area. Were the Aliens not around anymore? The fact that everything was deserted and semi-buried, were evidence that it was abandoned a long time ago.

KNACK!

When the soldiers heard that sound, they threw themselves to the ground with survival reflexes, that only experienced Veterans have.

"Bulletcrack only. High velocity round. Missed twenty centimetres. They must be far away.", Peiper analysed, catching his breath and scanning the horizon. They never heard the actual shot, so the sound had only been the supersonic bullet flying by.

"Get back in, we are in the ope..."

Gerd was interrupted by the second crack and Peiper shouting, "Scheisse!", and then proceeding to fire his LGM/Assault Rifle Hybrid at the assumed enemy position, but the shots went wide by nearly a hundred meters.

Both didn't need to communicate to know they had to run.

"It's only the shoulder, but the bastard is precise.", the Oberst explained.

The 'entrace' of the bunker was quite big, but provided good cover on the sides. And it was needed, when the enemy quick-shooters opened fire with unexpected precision. Their shots PLINGed against the metal walls and Gerd knew that there was no chance they could fight back long against the Aliens.

"Oberst, get that tank up here quick. I'll cover you.", he ordered.

"Sir, you are too high ranking. I can't...", Peiper tried to object using the old VIP argument. The General couldn't care less. He was an infantryman himself, not some fat buerocrat.

"And I am too old to run that distance, now follow your orders, boy. I can hold my own."

No vocal comfirmation needed, because Peiper immediately ran off. Gerd leaned out of cover to cover him during the run.

Seeing a few blue muzzle-flashes in the distance, he took aim. The projectiles impacting around him, made it difficult to concentrate, but not impossible. Gerd made sure, his sights were perfectly aligned and searched for the best target on the horizon. He saw a slightly darker shape, that looked tiny from this distance. He hovered the sights minimally above the target and pressed the air out of his lungs, steadying his aim. Slowly and gently, he pressed on the trigger, slowly moving it back.

The quick and dirty sounding BANG of the rifle threw his concentration a bit off, but he saw that this enemy had stopped shooting.

Gerd got back into cover immediately, to avoid getting hit by sheer unfortune. He also noticed that the enemy didn't actually aim their shots in a classical sence. They were far away and their salvos were well aimed to hit somewhere around his area. It was effective suppression-fire, but why? They had him cornered, why did they not save ammo, by shooting only when he get's out of cover?

Rundstedt laid down to steady his aim and minimize his exposure. He experimented a little and quicly found a position where he could take aim comfortably around the corner of the wall.

Again, he scanned the horizon and saw a target, that was dashing down a dune, while the rest kept firing.

He took aim again, aiming the tip of the needle a bit below the enemy and followed his movement. Gerd fire three aimed shot in quick sucession. The first missed and whirled up a cloud of dust. But the second struck, throwing the enemy off balance and sending him tumbling down the high dune. Third shot missed.

As soon as the body came to a stop, Gerd fired three more rounds, that all struck the lying body. It didn't move anymore after that.

Then, something interesting happened. The enemy ceased fire.

* * *

"Shit!", Birgit sweared, when she took off Lucas' Helmet.

The shot had punshed right through the faceplate and the skull of the human merc. A 28 years old ex-miner, who happened to be quite a good shot with an AR and subsequently switched career. As soon as the helmet was off, a shower of liquid brain, blood and little skull-fragments splattered on the sand, alongside with a deformed and surprisingly large classical bullet.

Birgit only recognized the dated projectile because she had originally been trained on G3 Rifles. Denmark still had tons of those.

"Sir, we won't get that gunner.", Pravus observed, calmly watching through his scope. "He has a good angle from that position. We can't approach him without taking more casualties. We could go around and come from above."

"Sounds like a plan. You're learning fast.", she complimented and patted what passed for a shoulder with Turians.

Birgit walked over to one of her human trainees, who seemed to have a nervous breakdown, clutching his rifle like a teddy bear. This, she thought, was why Turians thought humans were weak.

"Stand up and come with me.", she ordered and was answered by the frightened young man desperately shaking his head.

Hansen wrestled with herself for a moment, if that was the right thing to do, but in the heat of the battle, she did go through with it. She drew her Predator pistol and shoved it straight into his mouth, stopping his sobbing instantly and causing the adrenaline to bring the rookie back to reality. "You will follow that order, or I shoot you. Clear?"

Not very fancy wording, but the frightened nod proved it to be sufficient.

She holstered her pistol and gripped her Lancer AR, running behind the dunes to safely flank the attacker. When she reached an angle, where she imagined an overwatch-position would be neat, she stopped and ordered: "Get on the dune and do overwatch. We trained this and I need you to cover my back!"

She ran further, when Pravus, in frightening contrast with his usual calmc screamed: "CONTAAACT, TANK, IN THE..."

BOOOOOOOOOM...

The explosion was so mighty, it threw Birgit off-balance.

"No!", she exclaimed, stopping dead in tracks and tried to reason what to do. It didn't take long for her to do what felt right. Abandoning the plan, she dashed back to Pravus. Meanwhile she opened the com-channel and ordered: "All units, immediately retreat to base and set up an AT position. The attackers have a tank."

Birgit found the Turian Marksman lying in the sand, eyes closed. Half his mandibles were missing, only burned stumps remaining and his armor was black from the heat. That was an HE-Shell, no doubt.

She didn't know how to check pulse on a Turian. Panicked, the women tried to find something on the throat, but there was nothing.

Deciding to scout the situation first, she glances over the dune. And saw what had to be the ugliest tank ever built. An impossibly bulky monstrosity. A huge artillery-caliber main gun and a coaxial secondary main gun. Poor kid didn't stand a chance.

Getting back to the Turian, Birgit lifted his body up and slung him over her shoulder. She felt responsible for him and wasn't going to let him behind in the sand too.

"We get Lucas later, retreat now!", she ordered the remaining trainee and ran off towards the base.

* * *

Meanwhile, a sleek Corvette was rapidly decellerated from FTL by the systems relay. It was a little patrol-run through the almost lawless border-worlds in the Verge-Frontier. For a ship this expensive, it was almost overkill, but definitely a good way to field-test the Alliance's newest toy.

Commander Shepard stood besides Captain Anderson in the CIC and observed the layout of the planets and the system.

"Few places for ambushes.", Anderson remarked. "And no ships in the system."

Refreshing the picture after five seconds, he made sure the sensor readings were correct.

"Are you sure this is the system, Shepard?"

"This system is perfect, because it is so sub-optimal, Sir.", Jane explained from first-hand experience. "This place is remote and militarily awful to defend. Also, you see that beacon? There is no mining operation here anymore. That is the hideout our contact hinted. I bet they could hide quite a few tons of Red Sand in a mining-tunnel."

"It sounds possible. We'll investigate it and I bet if we scare them enough, they will cooperate.", Pressly agreed and turned his head to his Captain, waiting for approval.

"Yes, we can send in the Marines", Anderson said in a humored tone, like a father conceding to his children. "Jane, we have some fresh blood on board. Do you want to take Alenko and Jenkins along? I trust it will be a milk-run?"

"Of course. They'll surrender the moment a Mako drops on their doorstep."

* * *

Well... Took longer than expected, but I think it is an improvement over the original.

And I still don't know what to use the author's notes for. Huh.

Ah, well... I write this story because Mass Effect really needs more Crossover involving some more... exotic characters. Seriously: History has a lot of interesting characters to use and that source was (as far as I can tell) never used for that kind of Crossover yet.

Hope you like the idea, please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Rundstedt always had his doubts about the Maus.

PLING PLING PLING PLING PLING CREEEEK PLING PLING PLING PLOOOONGGG PLING PLING BOOOOOM PLING PLING PLOOOONG PLING...

Not so much anymore.

The tank crawled forwards mercilessly, while taking hits from all kinds of calibres. Rundstedt was observing the madness from the Commander's copular. They chased the enemy back to what looked like a bunker made of pure metal. It was an intriguing design for sure. He didn't get what it was supposed to be though.

The remaining enemies were behind a hastily created crate-barricade. They were desperate enough to just shoot their small arms at the tank. It did nothing, but it seemed their ammo supplies were infinite anyways.

Now the martian equivalent of a Panzerschreck joined the barrage. It's blue explosions did no damage at all. They only send vibrations through the tank and the metal structure let out pained groans.

"General, can I please, please, PLEASE...", Peiper moaned for the... how many times was it now? "No Oberst. You will not try out the big gun. I intend to sleep in a bed tonight and I want it warm and soft. Not burned and full of sand.", Rundstedt instructed half-seriously.

"I am not worried General, but what is you plan about the Martians? They don't seem particulary hospitable.", Becker commented over the fitting impact of the bullets.

"Well, they seem quite slow to learn, but I expect them to surrender in the next minute.", he decided.

"General, joking aside, they are Martians and they are shooting at us. Shouldn't we treat this situation seriously?", Peiper asked worried, but his reasoning bounced off the old man's unwavering smile. "Oh, I am dead serious Oberst. They probably already called reinforcements in. Killing them would give us time ro prepare, but please think long-term. We are on their homeworld. We can't fight them off forever and work on the gate at the same time. Diplomacy is the only way to survive this."

Peiper rolled his eyes, in the gunner-seat. "Diplomacy? And how are you going to convince them, may I ask?", the Oberst asked deadpan.

"You will convince them. Aim low." Rundstedt watched with satisfaction how the implicated order washed away all doubt in a milisecond and replaced it with youthful enthusiasm. "Yes, you may try out the big gun."

* * *

Jaina was bursting out of the door, with the last crate of missiles in her hands. Her collegues were still firing their rifles in full-auto at the approaching tank. They knew, it was just scratching the grey paintjob, but Hansen claimed that they might be able to detrack it by sheer luck.

She ran over to the Salarian AT-Specialist and opened the box. Crouching behind the hastily created crate-barricade, the young Asari handed him another Warp-Missile. She didn't know why Hansen had been so paranoid to keep a crate of high-tech AT-Warheads under her bed, was beyond rational conprehension. But now, all the overpreparation paid off.

As the Salarian fired, Jaina traced the missile with anticipation. It crossed the distance in less than 2 Seconds and...

"WHAT?!", she exclaimed, sinking back into cover. The blast didn't even cause this thing to shake! "By the Godess, what is that thing?!"

It happened to be the weirdest vehicle she has ever seen on her journies. It was gigantic for the standards of a frontline-tank. A humongous grey block of sloped armor with a primary giant cannon and another coaxial slightly less big cannon.

Suddenly the Monster stopped moving. It waited until it stopped shaking, then fired it's cannon. Jaina dived for cover, burying her head in the sand. The blast was massive. She could feel the ground vibrating in her face and a wave of air swept over her.

When she raised her head again, she realized she wasn't dead. Looking around, Jaina saw the others were lying in the dirt around her, trembling in terror. Exept Commander Hansen, who was hastily grabbing a white flag from her backpack and started holding it up with her hands.

"Matriarch, get down!", the young Asari shouted fearfully, when she remembered the Commander's lecture about human military customs. White flags were a signal for surrender.

"Everyone! Get up, drop your weapons and raise your hands in the air. We can't win this.", the human ordered. Of course everyone wanted to object, but they obeyed. Jaina wanted to just run, but decided not to. She, and all the others, trusted the judgement of their boss.

When she walked out of cover, hands raised, she trembled in terror at her vulnerability. She silently prayed to the Goddess that the tank wouldn't shoot.

Thankfully, the attackers showed mercy. The tank kept resumed it's tediously slow crawl towards the building. Seriously, it was still minutes away.

While the speed was abysmal, that tank was the most heavily armored vehicle that she had ever seen. Krogan 'War Trucks' were an exeption, but this block of armor in front of the mercenaries was the size of an IFV. Especially it's imperiviousness to Anti-Vehicle Rockets was stunning.

The thickness of the plating must have been ridiculous. Warp-Missiles were supposed to rip apart the thin protective plating of AFVs with a volatile gravity field. It was a testament to efficient engineering that the structure held.

* * *

The Field Marshal felt that the speed of the tank stood in an anti-climactic contrast to the spectecular way it forced the martians to surrender. And it highlighted the worst flaw of the tank. It was so ridiculously slow and unmaneuverable, that the enemy Close Air Support would use the Maus as a targeting practice. Panther tanks were truly the design that would shape the character of the Panzerwaffe in the decades to come.

"Peiper, get up in the hatch. Watch out for air-support.", he ordered and noticed the next glaring design-flaw. There was no MG42 to repel aircraft.

"Herr Marschall?", General Becker asked from the driver seat below, requesting permission to ask a question.

"Yes, General?", Gerd approved.

"Isn't it odd that they are waving a white flag? And raising their hands?", Alfred questioned contemplatingly.

Now that it was mentioned, the old Marshall shared the sentiment. It was odd.

Not only that, but really unlikely. He was never interested in the topic of "Science Fiction". Gerd was a practical man and wild fantasies were not something he wasted his thoughts on. He happened to have read H.G. Well's "War of the Worlds" in his youth, but that was it. But he knew some basic trivia about the genre. The main idea was, that species that could space-travel would have certain characteristics. Technological superiority over humanity, an unusual anatomy and a culture that could hardly be compared to any examples on Earth.

These foes had none of these characteristics. They looked similiar to humans at this distance, but admittedly there were slight deviancies. Their weapons were essentially like StG-44's and projectile based. They had a strange glow to them, but were surely kinetic in nature. And the martian equivalent of a Panzerschreck did absolutely nothing, when they exploded. Appearently they somehow teared and tugged quite a lot on the metal, but everything held in place. What was truly concerning, was that they knew human battle-mannerisms. There were few explainations for that.

"Becker, do you think we might be... fighting humans?", Gerd speculated.

"How would that be possible, Sir?", Peiper questioned, while observing the sky. "We are on Mars."

"My theory is, that the allies might have another gate and we know they have a reactor to activate it. They could have established a presence here and developed experimental technology." It was the only thing that really made sense to the Marschall.

Becker shook his head. "I doubt that. Probably the aliens studied us from afar and know some basic military customs."

"Don't you think the aliens would have developed some decent anti-tank weapons in that case?", Gerd asked, but the engineer easily countered with: "The americans would surely defend an outpost as obviously valueable as this with a full division, armed with of state-of-the-art conventional weaponry for good measure, wouldn't they?"

That, Rundstedt had to admit, made sense. That was the reason he valued talking with the men under his command. They could sometimes offer an important second perspective.

"Good point.", he admitted, while opening his turret hatch.

The tank eventually crossed the distance to the building, without any enemy air support showing up and Rundstedt could get a good look at the enemy for the first time.

They were a strange lot, that was sure. They were all armored from head to toe in some shining alloy. It didn't look quite metallic, though. Now it was clear they were indeed aliens. Some of them had weird head-shapes, too bulky torsos, too slender limbs and other little anomalies. A lot looked quite human, though.

It was twenty in number, all with completely enclosed helmets that concealed their faces. Only one had his helmet off. It was a wounded who lay on the ground, wimpering while one of his (or her) kameraden treated him (or her).

The creature was ugly. It was bony, predatory and avian, with some obvious reptilian features. It's face was painted with a mixture of war-paint and it's own blood. Gerd felt a sting of empathy when he saw that half of it's face was deformed by an HE-Shell.

"Dismount.", Gerd ordered and jumped off the tank together with Peiper.

"Does anyone understand what I am saying?", he asked loudly, while the Oberst was seizing the weapons. Nobody answered.

"This is going to be difficult.", Becker commented dryly behind the Field Marshall.

Peiper chuckled dismissively. "At least we have hostages."

"Prisoners, Oberst. These are prisoners of war.", Gerd clarified. "I know you come from the Ostfront, but we will conduct ourselves civilized here, understood?"

"Jawohl."

Rundstedt wanted to inspect one of the alien weapons, when he suddenly noticed, that the prisoner treating the wounded was speaking in a vaguely germanic language.

She just finished injecting a syringe, when she suddenly asked , "Tysk?", in a confused tone. A realisation struck him. Danish. The women had asked him if he was German. In danish.

"Tysk.", he confirmed, baffled. Immediately the previous suspicion returned.

"Human?", Gerd asked in english. The women nodded and confirmed with a german "Ja."

The old Marschall was adept at hiding his mood behind a proud aristocratic expression, but internally he was confused and disoriented. What was going on? Was that ring also a time-maschine? Did Denmark secretly build a Space-Empire? And why wasn't she speaking German? It was a major language-course in the danish education system. This one was apperantly a woman under the armor.

"Can you take your helmet off?", Gerd asked in german, but was met with a nondescript stare.

"Peiper, search for documents. Or just any clues to what is going on here. This one just asked me if I was German. In danish.", he ordered and began removing the backpack of a horned prisoner.

It was a futuristic design and made of a metallic looking alloy that was strangely light and had a weird texture to it. The locks were a bit strange to open, but they seemed far more practical than the mess of straps that normal backpacks used.

When the thing was open, as an experienced commanding officer, Rundstedt grunted in disapproval. The backpack was packed very sloppy. Inside were some nondescript futuristic items. Some tablet-thing, some ball-thing, a shiny disc, a few fine-tuning tools for a weapon, two little metal blocks and an MRE.

Sadly the inscription on the ration was written in alien letters, so it was useless.

"No serial numbers on the weapons. They were burned out with acid. These are illegal, appearently.", Becker suddenly reported, holding up a sleek Assault Rifle. It gave Rundstedt an idea. These people were from the martian equivalent of the mafia.

The old man had enough life-experience, that knew a few basics about organised crime. A friend in the police had once told him how fascist Freikorps militias always removed the serial numbers of their weapons, so that there was no evidence that rich industrialists were directly supplying them with weapons. Otherwise the police could track burocratic trail of the gun and link the crimes of militant fascists to well known corporations.

"So we didn't kill foreign soldiers, after all. That improves our situation. Doesn't explain the danish woman, though.", Rundstedt thought out loud, thinking how this situation could be approached.

His diplomatic skills were minimal, as he learned during recent years. The reason he was able to negotiate with the Soviets and not the Allies was, that Stalin and Molotov were always upfront with him. They were ideologues with genuine principles and sharp minds. With them he could work, despite some amount of open mutual distrust. The politicians in the West were slimy backstabbers. Roosevelt was the best out of a bad bunch, but even he tried to hold onto a delusion of restoring the status quo in the world.

What Rundstedt feared was who he would be negotiating with, on this planet. This wasn't a bad dream, it was bitter reality and eventually he would have to be diplomatic about this mess. He needed to return to Earth to deal with unfinished buisness, but he could not return without the help of people who understood this gate-thingy.

"What a mess have we gotten ourselves into?", Peiper murmured worried, while searching through another backpack. He was about to drop it, when suddenly he began to laugh really hard.

The two generals stared at him confused. As did the other prisoners and the feminine one at Peipers feet awkwardly turned her head to evade the attention she got.

"Report?", Becker asked in a sarcastically authoritarian tone.

Peiper held up some colourful printed magazine. Gerd kept covering the prisoners with his rifle, so the old mechanic came over to take a look at it.

He started laughing too and even with the helmet and armor, the woman besides them looked embarrased. Very, very embarrased.

"Give me a report now, or get to back to work.", Gerd ordered, annoyed. He had to cover the prisoners and there was no time for unneccesary jokes in a situation like this.

"We are definitely past the year 1978, Herr Generalfeldmarschall.", Becker stated, with complete seriousness. "We found an... uhm... adult magazine. From 1978. The Playboy Magazine, in english."

Gerd flinched. The first time, since years. That little piece of information threw him off balance harder than an artillery shell ever could. Other people would probably ask for a redundant second confirmation, but the old man trusted Becker's word.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

"So some of these are human.", he concluded out loud. "And we are in the future... How far do you think?"

The engineer thought for a moment, silently whispering some statistics to help him do the math in his head. "The pictures are in colour and printed on some strange reflective material. But there are stains from coffee and... other... things... Anyways, it seems to be old but in decent condition. It's a guess, but judging from the magazine's condition, around 2010?"

Gerd nodded bitterly. "That makes sense. We are in the future and some of these are humans. But why do they keep their suits seal..."

In the middle of the sentence both old Veterans thought the same.

Becker detached the round metal can from his belt and threw it over to the Marschall. "Take mine, Sir.", he offered.

Gerd quickly recalled his experience from WW1 and quickly put on the Gasmask with a speed that he earned through regular exercise.

Peiper noticed and threw his mask over to Becker. "Generals first."

The old Marschall wished he had put on a combat-webbing over his dress-uniform. Peiper was a former SS officer, but a salvagable soldier. He didn't deserve to suffer because his superior officer was ill prepared. But the priorities still applied. Peiper was the lowest in the command chain, so Rundstedt put the Gas Mask on himself.

In his very narrow field of view, Gerd could see one of the prisoners doing something.

It was the danish one. She had taken her helmet of and shook her head. "Der Sand.", she tried to explain in the few german words she knew. With the helmet off, it was confirmed that she was human. She was old an old woman with greying blonde hair. Her face was filled with little stiches and her hair was cut short in a masculine manner. She was probably the commanding officer, because of all the prisoners she looked like the most professional.

Gerd couldn't quite figure out what she meant, until she sprinkled a bit of sand over the faceplate of the helmet.

"They wear the suits because the sand itches.", Becker guessed and took his mask off again.

The other general did the same and ordered: "Peiper, search the building. Becker, turn the tank around. I will guard the prisoners."

Rundstedt was about to check if he could find something to eat in the backpacks, maybe even a good Bavarian beer, but then he saw it. Something on the horizon.

"BOMBER INCOOOMIIIIING!", he screamed, sprinting to the tank.

* * *

Shepard was feeling the drop beneath her.

The Mako was falling rapidly and Private Jenkins was shaking in his seat. She gave him a friendly smile to calm him down. He was new to the Normandy and never experienced an air drop in a Mako before. His training had appearently been in the ground army.

Shepard hated air-drops too, but she'd done this manuever so many times, that she could keep calm enough. Her team was a bit more nervous. They were Marines and knew her long enough now, so they weren't terrified anymore. But they had yet to get really used to air-drops.

The mission itself was buisness as usual. Some smugglers had a little nest, the Normandy had to clear it. Approach with the stealth-drive, enter atmosphere, drop on their heads with a Mako and watch them throw away their weapons.

Sometimes Shepard had to gun down some professional Mercenaries, but patrol duty in the Traverse didn't include any intense ground-combat. The Normandy simply had to avoid detection by batarian military and not harass batarian civilian ships, to avoid political clusterfucks.

This time was no different. Probably just some drugs and cheap pistols from the Black Market.

The breaking thrusters fired and the Element Zero Core lowered the weight of the vehicle to a safe level. Quickly, the fall was slowed down and the strong shock-absorbers enabled a rough, but safe landing.

Shepard was getting off her seat, ready to jump into action, when the Driver hastily reported: "They have a tank! Breaking line of sight!"

She sat back down on her seat and calmly ordered: "Status report, please."

"Shep, there is a gigantic tank. Wait... They're waving a white flag?", the driver reported confused.

Admittedly, Shepard was confused as well. A tank? Surely if a drug lord would deploy a tank to guard an outpost, he'd put it to use. Something was off.

"Alenko left, Jenkins right, I'm center. Triangle formation. We're going out.", she ordered as short as possible. Hopefully the new guy wouldn't loose his nerves, Jane hoped. She preferred to keep things like this as bloodless as possible.

The Mako's side-hatches opened and the trio jumped out.

Both men covered their directions and made sure there were no flanking hostiles. They saw nothing and signalled Shepard to move.

With Rifles directed forward, they all started to slowly move towards the enemy tank.

Shepards got a look at the thing and she understood why her driver wanted to get away immediately. It was huge. A giant grey block of armor with a gun that looked like it was actually artillery.

Behind it, a group of disarmed mercenaries was being guarded by a single gunman. That was interesting. Maybe it was a gang rivalry? A vigilante militia? Local colonial police?

"What the fuck is that, Commander?!", Jenkins stuttered, sounding as if he just wanted to dive to cover.

Shepard started to reconsider her plan to initiate diplomacy, but the strangers who had captured the outpost were not showing hostile behavior. The tank was unnerving, but spreading out would look like intent to initiate hostilities.

Corporal Alenko, who knew his Commander well enough, kept calm and didn't say anything. He trusted in Shepards ability to negotiate. If anything went wrong, they would have two biotic soldiers in the middle of the enemy formation.

Shepard was relieved when she saw that someone was sticking a white flag out of the turret hatch of the archaic tank.

The trio approached in a casual manner, but were subtly spreading out. Jane approached the tank directly, while scanning it's front for anti-infantry weapons. It had none. That was good news. However, to Shepards amusement, there was a smaller coaxial cannon besides the big one. It was ridiculous. Also, there was a symbol and a name painted on the front.

A stylised 'L' and the name "Daisy" with a few cartoonish hearts. Cute.

The man who was guarding the hostages had knelt behind one of them and steadied his weapon on the helmet, between the horns, of a terrified looking Salarian. Jane didn't get a good look at the man, but saw that he was wearing nothing but a shirt and trousers. Strange.

Alenko covered the guy, taking cover behind the tank. He had instantly understood Jane's plan to keep near the sluggish tank, because it didn't have any anti-infantry weapons.

"You can come out. We won't shoot. And thanks for clearing this base.", she shouted, but there was no answer coming from the tank. Instead, a female voice shouted from the group of prisoners: "They don't speak English and have no translators! Try German!"

The voice sounded familiar, but Jane couldn't quite pinpoint why.

It took a moment for Shepard to reconfigure her helmet-translator to translate through the loudspeakers. It was annoying when people had either no or low quality translators. Not everyone could afford the military version with functions for perfect instant translation of every language. But surely every human should speak at least some English. Outside Earth, there was almost no place where any other language was official.

"Thanks for clearing out that criminal hideout. Please come out now and identify yourselves. If you are a rival gang, the Alliance offers a temporary pardon under the condition you retreat peacefully. If you are legal Corsairs, I am your contact to collect the bounty. In any case it'd be polite not to shoot at us. Thanks!"

Obviously, Shepard was expecting the strangers to open fire, but it seemed fair to give them a chance to surrender.

She would easily pacify them, now that she was close enough for her biotics.

"You are humans?", asked the man behind the hostages with a trace of suspicion in his voice.

"Duh...", answered Jenkins.

"Generals, the contacts are human and offer a ceasefire. There are three Infantrymen, two crouching around the front left and right tracks. The leader is approaching from the front. I have a limited overwatch potential.", the man reported, by shouting directly towards the tank, while Shepard was approaching the tank.

She started to process the new information again and it was getting more and more confusing.

General? A warlord maybe? Why didn't they have proper radios?

On the tank, a hatch opened and an old man climbed out. He wore a grey uniform and a peaked cap, decorated with a variety of little ribbons and one medal. When the man climbed down and stood directly in front of Shepard, she finally noticed the medal around his neck, between the two rank-insignias on the collar. It was an Iron Cross.

That, finally made her piece all the little clues together.

"Excuse me, Sir, but could you please explain this situation here?", she asked carefully, at a loss of how to properly ask if these gentlemen might be time-travelling Nazis. Jane was open minded to unconventional ideas, but this concept was just so ridiculous that she didn't want to say it out loud. Just in case if it all turned out to be a big prank.

"We tested an unknown technology in a secret base. And now we are stranded here. Other Informations are classified. Could you please inform us of our location and the current date?",the General asked in a stiff, practiced tone. Shepard got the hint.

"It's the 6th of November. 2182."

The old man kept his pokerface.

"General, if I may take a wild guess, did this technology involve time-travel?", she dropped the bomb and she guessed outside of her hearing/radio channel, her colleagues were probably having a fit of laughter.

The General nodded softly, although his authoritarian glare did not soften.

"I am General Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt, Army Administration Council of the German Empire. My comrade in the tank is General Alfred Becker, Tank Group 'Lehr', Equipment Conversion Bureau. The man guarding the prisoners is Colonel Joachim Peiper, from Combat Group 'Peiper'".

He looked as if he didn't know what to say. "I think we have some things to discuss. We'll give you the prisoners, but we keep our weapons."

Shepard nodded. "I can offer you a flight off this planet. We will have to return to Alliance space with the prisoners and I think Captain Anderson will want to talk to you."

The General nodded. "Commander, I know it sounds ridiculous to even say it, but it appears we really travelled through time. We will cooperate, but you will not get any details out of us until I am convinced you are trustworthy. Understood?"

Shepard nodded back with a friendly smile. "No problem. Let's sort this out one step at a time. I just hope you aren't playing a giant illegal prank.", she joked. Extranet pranksters were getting ridiculously bold on occasion.

"Alenko, has Captain Anderson received the Livestream?", she asked over squad-channel. Kaidan's job was to think of things like this while Shepards was busy negotiating or fighting. It was useful if someone was doing the actual commanding while Shepard was busy doing her thing. Usually it worked out.

"Yes. Anderson and Pressly are browsing the offline database for information on the three. We don't have any extranet excess in this system.", Kaidan reported, having activated his translator as well. "Joker is going to land the Normandy here."

On cue, the ship came back from the curve it had flown. Shepards stomach felt ill, when she observed Joker's landing maneuver from outside. It could best be described as a rather risky drift-decelleration and it let a giant cloud of sand wash over everyone present.

The Marines enjoyed the look of barely suppressed awe on the old man's face, when the Corvette landed gracefully on the plateau and opened the lower hangar.

"Welcome to the future, General.", she said. "Ok, everyone on the vehicles. Jenkins, Alenko, you two help with the prisoners. We can split them up between us. It's a few hundred meters."

The younger, but still old, General Becker started laughing, while standing out of the drivers hatch. "Better go on foot, Daisy will take a while."

On cue the motor started rumbling and the Alliance soldiers reflexively jumped away from the tracks, but joined in on the giggling when the tank started moving at barely walking speed.

"Yeah, this is going to take a while.", Shepard agreed. "Can we tug you with the Mako?"

The look on their faces was priceless.

* * *

An Authors Note:

Well, this took quite long. The explaination: Real Life happened. I don't want to go into details, but I let my readers know, that I am still writing. Last three years have been kinda horrible. But at the moment, things are getting better and my writing process is a bit faster.


End file.
